Photograph
by patsan
Summary: "I found it while I was looking for old photographs," she told her in the tender tone she only used when they were alone. "I had them make a copy. I thought you'd like to have one." Isobel, Mary and the two boys they both hold dear to their hearts.


This came out of nowhere, but I'm glad it did.

An old promotional picture came up on Tumblr yesterday and this little thing wrote itself. Don't look for deeper meanings, it's just that I love Isobel and I loved her relationship with Matthew back in season one and two, and I'm going to miss it, and Matthew, desperately.

I've put a bad manipulation of the picture in question on my Tumblr if you're curious (and I'll upload it as a cover for this story as soon as I remember how to do it :P).

Thanks to **Orangeshipper** for going over it and for boosting my confidence with her kind words :)

All mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Photograph**

_"I can't believe we're doing this," Matthew complained for the tenth time it seemed that morning._

_Isobel's lips twitched upwards. She couldn't see her son, but she knew he was wearing his most annoyed frown. As much as she loved him, sometimes he seemed to oppose to things just out of pure stubbornness._

_"It's a nice thought, Matthew," she said patiently, "and we're almost done. Have we not, Mr. Hudley?" she asked to the bulky man in front of them._

_"Yes, madam, we're almost done. Now, if you'd just put your hand on your mother's shoulder, Mr. Crawley…"_

_Matthew sighed audibly, but complied. "I just can't understand why should they want a picture of us when we've just gotten here," he said, quietly, so that only she could hear. "I told you, they're trying to change us. Wait and see, sooner or later they'll want me to go to shooting parties as well..."_

_"Ready!" the photographer called, and they both stiffened, but Isobel kept smiling, even after the white light of the bulb had momentarily blinded them._

_"Cheer up," she said at last, coming to her feet, "one day you'll look at it, and will be reminded fondly of this moment."_

_Matthew's frown deepened and she laughed, moving away to properly thank Mr. Hudley for his work._

* * *

Years passed and she forgot about that picture, and then, one day, she was presented with it again. It was her daughter-in-law passing it to her with a reverent look in her eyes.

"I found it while I was looking for old photographs," she told her in the tender tone she only used when they were alone. "I had them make a copy. I thought you'd like to have one."

Isobel watched her in stunned silence, and Mary only smiled, a soft curve of her lips that lightened her eyes too, and yet left them a little sad.

She took the photograph and looked down at it, and for some moment she was unable to speak. She couldn't help tracing her beloved son's features with slender, trembling fingers. Her eyes closed on their own accord, as her mind recalled that day in striking details, like it'd been only weeks ago.

She could remember everything so well… How annoyed he'd been, about the whole ordeal, his stubborn tone as they went into the garden to find a suitable spot, the exasperated shake of his head when the photographer made them move the third time, because the light just wasn't right.

And she could remember the richness of his strong voice too, his comforting presence right beside her.

She could almost feel his hand delicately resting on her shoulder.

She took a deep breath, as her memories darkened, and she remembered the stillness, the paleness, the coldness of a body that was not her son.

She'd been lost without him for a while.

He'd been her everything for so many years of her life, she wasn't sure at first she would survive his loss. But she had, and she'd learnt to know Mary in the process, the woman her son had loved for such a long time, who'd loved him back with the same devotion, the same kindness, who'd loved him even when everything had seemed lost.

Isobel opened her eyes, and smiled at her daughter-in-law with fond affection. "Thank you," she said. "I'll treasure it like the most precious gift." She paused, looking down at the old picture, and her smile turned tender, as her eyes roved on her darling son's face. "He was so very petulant about it all. He was so adamant that we should not let you change us."

Mary's soft laugh had Isobel look at her. They smiled at each other.

"I can imagine it very easily," Mary said.

Isobel nodded, and thought that for all his declarations he had indeed changed throughout the years. And he'd come to consider Downton his home, the Crawleys his family. And then there was Mary, of course, darling Mary who'd always pulled him back, who'd kept him sane, who eventually had made him happy.

"It's still so difficult to go over his things," Mary spoke softly after a while. "Sometimes I take a book that I know he loved, and I can't help but shed some tears over it. Or I'd go and refresh the clothes we kept. I don't even know why I kept them, but I can't get rid of them. Not yet."

"I know," Isobel said, and she really did. Crawley House was frozen in time, and although sometimes she thought it was time to let it go, she couldn't, not yet, maybe not ever.

And it was alright.

A quick shuffle of feet came from outside the room all of a sudden, and the door opened just a crack to reveal a little blonde head peeking inside. Mary's face lit up upon seeing her son, and she extended a delicate hand to him.

The boy laughed and ran into his mother's open arms, climbed onto her lap, smiled widely at the two of them. Isobel couldn't help but smile back.

"Granny here," he said pointing his chubby hand to her, and then he frowned for some reason.

"I can see that she's here, darling," Mary said, catching Isobel's amused look. She pulled back the blond hair falling over his forehead and dropped a kiss over his head.

A young woman came running into the room only moments later, out of breath and a little red faced. "Milady! I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, "I couldn't stop him! He heard Mr. Carson say that you were in here with Mrs. Crawley, and he ran away from me!"

"It's alright, Miss. Lowel," Mary said coolly, "I'll call you when it's time for Master George to have his dinner." Isobel watched the nanny leave, and turned back to the other woman, who was now grinning down at her son while he chatted happily in her lap.

Once upon a time she'd have thought such changes in Mary's behaviour quite unnerving, but not anymore. She smiled at the picture in front of her, and her darling grandson and the young mother who had lost so much, and she felt a warm affection overwhelm her, fill her with tenderness and love.

They'd kept her up over the years. They'd healed her.

They'd been bound together by the memory of the man they had both loved so dearly, Mary and herself, and George was just so easy to love and cherish.

She rested the old photograph on her legs, holding her son's memory in her heart as she watched Mary play with her own son, eyes luminous and happy like they only were when she was like this, with him, in the safety of her home.

She smiled, and when Mary turned her head to her, she looked down at the photograph of herself and Matthew on her lap for only a moment before meeting her eyes again. Mary smiled, and only nodded once.

"Georgie," Isobel called then, and he turned to her, his blue eyes curious. "I would very much like to tell you a story about your Papa. Would you like to hear it?"

* * *

_I really don't know what to say. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, do let me know, I'll be thrilled to hear your thoughts!_

_For these wondering when the next chapter of "I Carry..." is going to happen, please never fear. It will come, I promise :)_

_Thank you!_


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